Tales of India

by Svabhu Kohli

  At last the day arrived and the guests assembled, but the blacksmith, finding the sum insufficient, said: “There is a great number of people here;” and he went to a certain nobleman and stated his difficulty. The nobleman advised him to keep the money as dower for his daughter, and to send it back with her to the king, and meanwhile he spoke to the court party, who all promised their assistance in entertaining the rest of the guests, and the feast passed off very well.

  When all was over, and the prince and the girl were united in wedlock, the king’s party returned to the palace, and the bride and her dower were taken home and she was lodged in the apartments reserved for her.

  When two or three days had passed by, Prince Ghool rose up early one morning, and, taking a whip, he lashed his new wife unmercifully. “This is what I owe you,” said he, “for your taunt to me at the well.” The girl bore the beating in surprised silence. Every two or three days the same scene was enacted, the prince with his own hands baring the shoulders of his unhappy wife and ill-using her.

  One morning, when he got up as usual to beat her, she said to him: “What glory do you gain by beating a poor working man’s child? If you are a man, you will go and marry a king’s daughter. Win her if you can, and beat her if you dare: but I am only the daughter of a blacksmith.”

  On hearing this taunt, the prince was so incensed that he dropped the whip and vowed never to enter the house again until he had married the daughter of a king.

  Now, there was a certain princess, the daughter of a neighbouring king, whose beauty was justly celebrated, though she was said to be dumb, and she it was whom the prince determined to marry. So he chose out a trusty slave and his best horse, and, having loaded several mules with jewels and presents of inestimable value, he set out one morning for the court of the king her father. March by march he travelled along, until at last he reached the kingdom, but in answer to his inquiries all he could learn from the inhabitants was that the princess could not speak, and that every prince who came before her as a suitor had to consent to play chess with her, and that the penalties which she inflicted on his presumption when he lost the game were of the severest description. Nevertheless, Prince Ghool had so much vain confidence in his own powers that, nothing daunted, he sent forward his slave to announce his arrival to the princess, and to request the honour of her hand in marriage.

  “It is necessary,” answered the princess, “that your master should understand the conditions. He must try his skill with me in three games of chess. If he lose the first, he forfeits his horse; if the second, his head is to be at my mercy; and if he loses the third, it shall be my right, if I choose, to make him a groom in my stables.”

  The prince at once accepted these proposals, and the event was made known in the city by the sounding of a great drum. “Ah,” said the people, when they heard the familiar sound, “another prince endowed with ‘blind wisdom’ has come to play with the princess, and he will lose, as all others have lost before him!”

  When the prince arrived at the palace, he was admitted, and there he found the princess seated on a rich carpet, while the chess-board lay on the carpet in front of her. The first game he lost, and the second, and the third. “Begone, presumptuous pretender,” cried she, “and take your place with your predecessors; you are only fitted to groom my horses!” So the unfortunate claimant for her hand was led away and set to mind one of her horses.

  Some time had elapsed, when the blacksmith’s daughter began to wonder at the continued absence of her lord, and she determined to follow him in order to learn his fate. So she disguised herself as a young nobleman, and very handsome she looked in her new attire when riding her beautiful steed. After a journey of many miles, she came to a river broad and deep, and, as she stood on the bank waiting for the ferry-boat, she observed a rat being carried down by the stream. “For God’s sake,” cried the drowning rat, “save me! Help me, and I will help you!”

  The blacksmith’s daughter said to herself: “No rat can possibly help me, yet I will certainly save you;” and she lowered the point of her lance to the water, and the rat, seizing it, climbed up to her and was saved. Taking the dripping creature in her hand, she placed it in safety on her saddle-bow.

  “Where are you going?” asked the rat.

  “I am going to the kingdom of the dumb princess,” answered she.

  “What is the use of your going there?” said the rat. “What will you gain? The princess possesses a magic cat, and on the head of the magic cat there stands a magic light which renders her invisible, and enables her to mix up all the chessmen unperceived, so that the princess’s suitors invariably lose the game and are ruined.”

  Hearing this, the blacksmith’s daughter began to fondle and pet the rat, and to say to it: “Assist me, for I also would try my fortune with the princess,” while at the same time she felt that her husband had tried his fortune and had lost.

  Then the rat looked at her, and said: “Your hands and your feet are those of a woman, though your dress is that of a man. First, tell me truly, are you really a man, or am I lacking in wisdom?”

  Then she began to tell the creature all her history from beginning to end, and how she had set out in search of her husband, Prince Ghool. “And now,” said she, “I want your assistance to recover my husband’s liberty and to restore him to his rank and position.”

  This was a rat which never forgot a kindness, but, on the contrary, always endeavoured to repay a benefactor tenfold. “You must take me with you,” said he, “hidden in your clothing, and if you will follow my advice you will beat the princess and you will attain your utmost desires.” The rat then instructed her in the means of achieving a victory, and so at last in conversation of a pleasing description they approached the capital and there rested.

  The next day, when the blacksmith’s daughter was admitted to the princess’s reception-room, she began by requesting that she might change places with her at the chess-board; and, as her request was granted, she secured the side on which the magic cat invariably entered the room. Then the game began; but soon she perceived that the board was becoming confused, and that she was gradually losing ground. Seeing this, she produced the rat, holding it the while firmly in her hand. Immediately she felt a sudden rush as of some animal, which, in fact, was the cat herself, which had that moment entered, and which in her eagerness to pounce on the rat had forgotten all about the game and her mistress’s interests. The blacksmith’s daughter, though she could not see the cat, still struck at her with her hand, and the magic light fell to the floor. Poor pussy was now rendered perfectly visible, and, having been scared by the unexpected blow, she ran with hair erect out of the room.

  When the princess perceived these untoward occurrences, she trembled and lost heart, so that she was easily beaten, not only in the first game, but in the succeeding ones as well.

  At that moment the sound of the great drum was heard reverberating through the city, and the inhabitants knew by that signal the result of the game.

  Now, there was one more condition attached to the wooing of this princess, which she had the privilege of insisting upon before she could be compelled to surrender her hand. It was that her suitor should prevail upon her to speak three times before sunrise; and it was ordained by a decree that each time she spoke the great drum should be sounded by an attendant slave, for the information of all the king’s subjects.

  “You see,” said the rat to the blacksmith’s daughter, “the assistance I have rendered you has not been in vain. And now let us see if we cannot make this obstinate princess speak. Your sleeping places will not be divided even by a curtain. Keep me with you, and when you are both in bed, set me loose, and I will get on the princess’s bed, while you must coax her to speak.”

  When they had retired and had lain down each on her own side of the apartment, the blacksmith’s daughter in her feigned voice began: “Charming princess, light and glory of my eyes, will you not speak to me?”

  The princess vouchsafe
d not a word. But the rat, which was sitting by one of the legs of her bed, imitating the princess’s voice, exclaimed with the utmost tenderness: “Dear prince, sweet prince, at your request I could speak on for ever!”

  When the princess heard this extraordinary statement, she thought to herself: “This prince is such a master of magic that he makes the very leg of my bed imitate my voice and answer for me.” Then, shaking with rage, she cried to the inanimate wood: “To-morrow morning you shall be hacked off and burnt in the fire for disgracing your mistress.”

  The instant these words were uttered by her, the attendant slave ran to the tower and sounded the drum, and all the people heard and wondered. At the same time the blacksmith’s daughter cried joyfully, “Salaam Alaikim, to the leg of my charmer’s bed!” to which the concealed rat replied: “To you also, my king, Alaikim salaam!”

  After a minute or two the blacksmith’s daughter, again addressing the angry princess, said in coaxing tones: “As I have to lodge under your roof to-night, O sweet princess, pray tell me a story to send me to sleep!” The rat, having moved away to another leg of the bed, immediately answered: “Shall I tell you what I have witnessed with my own eyes, or merely something which has happened to me?”

  “The best story,” replied the blacksmith’s daughter, “would comprise both what you have seen and what has happened to you.”

  “Very well,” said the rat, “I will tell you what I have seen, heard, and encountered myself: In a certain city there lived a robber who used to rob on a large scale. Once upon a time, in order to carry on his tricks, he left his own country and went into another country, leaving his wife behind him. During his absence the woman was visited by a thief: now listen to me well, and do not fall asleep. This thief came and practised such deceit on her that she took him for her husband and admitted him to her house, her true husband having been a very long time away. At last the robber returned, and, finding the thief established in his home, he was astonished, saying to himself, ‘Has any kinsman of my wife’s come to see her?’ However, he salaamed and entered the door, when the thief exclaimed to him roughly, ‘Sir, who are you?’

  “‘This house is mine,’ answered the robber; ‘my wife lives here.’

  “‘Nay,’ said the thief, ‘the woman is not your wife, but mine. You must be some bad character, and I shall send at once for the police and have you well thrashed.’

  “The robber was astounded. ‘Wife,’ said he, ‘do you not know me? I am your husband!’

  “‘Nonsense, man,’ replied the woman, ‘this is my husband—I never saw you before.’

  “‘This is a pretty thing!’ cried the robber, and he was fain to sleep elsewhere.

  “In the morning all the neighbours assembled and welcomed the robber as an old friend; and to the wife they said, ‘You have made a slight mistake; this is your real husband, and the other fellow is not.’ A regular fight ensued between the rival claimants, and they were carried off to the judge, when the woman settled the difficulty by saying, ‘I am the wife of him who brings me home the most money.’

  “Then said the thief to the robber, ‘Who and what are you?’

  “‘I am a robber,’ answered he; ‘who are you?’

  “‘I am a thief,’ said the other.

  “The thief, who would by no means relinquish the woman, now said: ‘Listen to me. Let us make trial of our skill. First, show me what you can do, or, if you please, I will begin. I am a thief and a cheat. If you can do more in robbery than I can perform in deceit, the woman is yours; but if otherwise, she is mine.’

  “The thief then hired some fine clothing, got into a palanquin, and, going to a city, gave himself out to be a rich merchant. As he passed through the streets, he stopped at the door of a jeweller, who considered himself so honoured by a visit from one whose great fame had preceded him, that he rose up and made him a humble obeisance.

  “The pretended merchant, with a lordly air, now asked, ‘Have you any pearls for sale?’

  “‘Yes,’ answered the jeweller.

  “‘Let me see the best you have,’ said the thief.

  “The jeweller immediately produced a beautiful casket, which the thief opened, and found therein several strings of pearls, which he proceeded to examine. After a pause he gave back the casket, saying, ‘These are not what I require. I want pearls of a better quality than these. Have you no more?’

  “The jeweller then brought out three or four other caskets, one of which the thief opened, and, while pretending to examine the worth of the contents, he adroitly cut off two strings of pearls, and, unseen by the owner, hid them in his sleeve. He then said: ‘How many boxes of pearls do you possess of this description?’

  “‘Altogether I have seven,’ answered the jeweller.

  “‘You shall hear from me again,’ replied the thief, and, getting up, he went at once to the king, who was sitting in court, and paid his respects.

  “‘Well, merchant,’ said the king, ‘how has it fared with you since coming to my capital?’

  “‘O king,’ answered the thief, ‘I have been robbed of seven boxes of pearls of the greatest value, and, according to information which I have received, they are in the hands of a certain jeweller.’

  “Immediately the king gave the thief a guard, and ordered that the jewellers’ shop should be at once closed and the unfortunate man arrested.

  “On their arrival at the shop, the thief pointed out the box out of which he himself had stolen the pearls, and said to the guard, ‘All my caskets were like that one.’ The soldiers hereupon took the box and the jeweller back to the king, to whom the thief said: ‘O king, this casket is mine.’ But the jeweller protested: ‘Nay, your highness, this casket is not his property, but mine.’

  “‘If it is yours,’ replied the thief, ‘tell the king how many strings of pearls it contains.’

  “‘It contains one hundred,’ at once said the jeweller.

  “‘No, no,’ said the thief, ‘not one hundred, but ninety-eight.’

  “‘Let the strings be counted,’ commanded the king.

  “This order was accordingly obeyed, when it was found, to the satisfaction of the court, that the thief had spoken truly. ‘The whole of my pearl-caskets,’ said the thief, ‘have been stolen from me, and are now unlawfully held by this jeweller. If this casket had not been mine, how could I have known the number of strings contained in it?’

  “‘True,’ said the king, ‘the casket is evidently yours.’ And he ordered the other caskets also to be delivered to him, but the jeweller was beaten with rods and cast into a prison.

  “The robber, who had witnessed the whole of this knavery on the part of the thief, was amazed, and how to overreach such matchless impudence he was puzzled to say. However, he now joined him, and both the rogues went together to the woman’s house and related the story.

  “Now,” cried the rat, “you must understand that the father of wisdom, who handed over these pearls to a common swindler and cheat, is also the father of this adorable princess. That is what I saw and what I heard, and so I have told you.”

  The princess was so enraged at hearing these concluding words that, being quite unable to restrain herself, she cried out to the leg of the bed: “When the morning comes you shall be cut off too, and thrown into the fire with your lying brother!”

  Hardly had she spoken when the great drum was heard to resound for the second time, and all the people remarked it. “Salaam Alaikim!” cried the blacksmith’s daughter, laughing. “Alaikim salaam!” answered the rat.

  Some little time now passed by, when the blacksmith’s daughter again broke silence.

  “Delightful creature and most charming princess,” said she, “you have regaled me with an excellent story. But the night is long and tedious. Pray tell me another.”

  The rat, who had moved his position to the third leg of the bed, answered, “Good, I will tell you what I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears. My former story was all about the thief. You shall no
w hear the adventure of the robber.

  “It was the next day that the robber said to the thief: ‘It is now my turn. It is necessary, however, that you promise not to open your mouth to say a single word, since I kept strict silence with you. Otherwise you lose the prize.’

  “To this condition the thief agreed, and both started once more and travelled to the same town. For some time the robber cudgeled his brains to no purpose for some device by which to surpass the thief. ‘I must contrive some scheme,’ thought he, ‘to have the thief imprisoned and his gains transferred to myself.’ On inquiry he learnt that the king was in the habit of sleeping on the roof of his palace, which was built in a pleasant place by the river-side. Said he to the thief: ‘You must of course attend me as I attended you, and be a silent witness of my work.’

  “Taking some iron pegs with him, the robber went to the palace, and, by fixing the pegs in the joints of the masonry one by one, he managed to climb to the roof. When he got to the top he perceived that the king was asleep, and that he was attended by a single guard who was pacing up and down. Watching his opportunity, he cut down the guard and threw his body into the river. Then taking up the musket, he assumed the sentry’s functions, and begun pacing backwards and forwards, while the thief sat down at a distance and looked on.

  “After a short time the king stirred, and cried: ‘Sentry!’

  “‘Here I am, sir,’ answered the robber.

  “‘Come near to me,’ said the king, ‘and sit down, and tell me a story, that my soul may rejoice.’

  “So the robber approached the monarch, and, sitting down as he was directed, he told him the story of the jeweller, the thief, and the pearls. As the story progressed the thief began to tremble with fright, and made repeated signs to the robber to change the subject, or at least not to divulge his name or to betray him; but the robber pretended not to notice him, and went on with his tale. Then suddenly breaking off, he began to tell the king his own story, and how by means of iron pegs he had scaled the palace roof and killed his sentry.